


Heart of Ice

by WaterLock



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Resentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterLock/pseuds/WaterLock
Summary: There was no one in the whole world, neither alive nor dead, who knew Ernesto more than Hector. His eyes told him that his words were not entirely true. Stealing the songs. Becoming famous ... there was something more than that ... In the middle of the two of them, will allways be Imelda.





	Heart of Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I publish in English. I'm mostly a Spanish writer, but I read a lot in English, so I wanted to try to translate one of my recent stories. I'll write it in my main language and later translate it with the help of a friend who will correct me. I hope there wouldn't be too many errors, I'll appreciate any suggestions you want to make to help me improve.

**Heart of Ice**

Ikhny Shy.

They guided him to an isolated room, with a closed door. The walls were painted a long time ago in a pale gray color, the fluorescent light of the tube accentuating the cold atmosphere, accompanied by a tenuous buzz that the silence amplified uncomfortably.

Hector was more nervous than he imagined he would be. Although he had been promised that he would not be hurt, that he would be protected, the fear of the skeleton went for more subtle issues than physical damage.

The metal door opened and an officer escorted the prisoner. Ernesto de la Cruz made his entrance to the small space, wearing a dark gray common outfit. His stylized hairstyle was as impeccable as ever, his rigid and arrogant posture had not abated even a little in those months of confinement. Hector watched him and could not help frowning. Even there, locked up, with everything that had been discovered about him, Ernesto retained a superior air, as if being accused of attempted murder was not something that could disturb him.

Their eyes met and the amber eyes of the (former) artist shone with a malicious cold light and a disdainful smile on his impeccable white face.

-Hector, what a surprise. - He greeted him, smiling falsely. The officer told him to sit on the chair in front of his visit, who was separated by an extensive metal table. Ernesto placed his hands on the surface, the chains of his handcuffs making a spectral noise. -I didn't know you were a fan. -

-What a cynic! - Hector thought staring at him. Despite not having a stomach, he felt the sensation of a mess inside him and the revolting taste of contempt inside his mouth. - I just came to find answers. -

Ernesto settled himself leaning back in his chair, placing one leg over the other and raising his hands slightly, inviting him to ask. Hector felt a powerful impulse to beat him and erase his smirk with a punch, but he only closed his fists on his knees, tightening his knuckles so as not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected by his attitude.

-And well ... What do you want to know, old friend.? - He decided to ignore the latter. That sarcastic phrase that almost seemed to threaten him.

-I want to know why you did it - His voice sounded hoarse, the words got stuck on the way out of his mouth. Ernesto smiled at him sideways, and made a mocking sound. He turned his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders.

-I already told you. To Seize my Moment. I had to do it, you didn't want to understand. - There was a long pause.

\- Look me in the eye and tell me. - Hector demanded. The prisoner watched him, again with mockery, with pride. His mouth twisted to the side. He placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. The officer who was guarding him, approached his hand to his gun ready to act if the musician went over the line.

-To seize my Moment.-

Hector leaned back, mouth and eyes wide open in surprise ...

-That is not the truth…. - He mumbled, astonished. -There's something more. I can see it in your eyes ... -

There was no one in the whole world, neither alive nor dead, who knew Ernesto more than Hector. His eyes told him that his words were not entirely true. Stealing the songs. Becoming famous ... there was something more than that ...

Ernesto leaned back in his chair again. His gaze fixed straight on the eyes of his friend, who no longer looked so angry, but curious, interested. Who used to be his faithful companion so long ago could read him like a book, even after so many decades. Knowing it disgusted him.

-You're an Idiot. - He replied avoiding his gaze. Again.

-Don't come with that! - Hector hit the table with his palm. -You murdered me. In cold-blood. You didn't even tell Imelda that I was dead! You don't have an idea of the the pain you brought to my family! -

At the mention of the name, Ernesto turned his gaze. Hector detected the displeasure in those clear eyes. But couldn't understand why he reacted that way. Silence surrounded them again. The killer was watching him with rage, breathing hard and his mouth moving from side to side, as if he was chewing the words before spitting them out or maybe he would swallow them and never tell him the truth behind his atrocious acts.

-You took everything from me- Hector insisted with pain. -You robbed me of my family!-

Ernesto got up quickly and hit the table with such fury that his visit jumped in his place, scared. The officer pulled his weapon from the case and pointed quickly, but neither paid any attention to him. The silence invaded them again and the rage in the prisoner increased, while his breathing agitated even more.

-I took from you? I robbed you? Hypocrite! - The last word slipped through his teeth like poison. Hector didn't understand. -You took her from me! You ... you and your stupid songs! Your laughs and jokes! She had to be mine! - The scream of the last sentence resounded in the room. Hector looked into his eyes between frightened and confused, there was a vehement fire in his pupils that was then covered by a blanket of cold mist.

Ernesto composed himself, tidying his hair that had been disordered for the strenght of his reaction. The singer took a deep breath, swelled his empty chest and watched him with displeasure and resentment.

\- What are you talking about? - He managed to formulate, insecure.

-The visit is done! - Ernesto shouted with authority giving a last blow to the table and turning to the officer. He took a second to react, store his gun in the case and approach the prisoner.

-Wait! ... tell me ... -

-Goodbye, my friend. - The eyes of Ernesto reflected again that perverse hatred that Héctor felt not to deserve after everything that had happened between them. Then he went out the door and did not look back.

* * *

Back in his cell, Ernesto was pacing like a caged lion. Agitated, startled. The former musician couldn't bear the weight of the conversation that he had just abruptly ended. The light from the long corridor of the cells let in a powerful light that broke against the bars, creating those grotesque shadows that invaded the space and intercalated in his fierce movement. He held his head as he tried to push the memories away from his mind. The images, the sounds, the smells and other sensations that had been buried for a century deep in his memories, struggled to emerge afloat in his consciousness ...

The image of a beautiful young woman ... dancing and moving with elegance ...

The powerful and vibrant voice that bewitched everyone who heard it ...

The perfume, natural, of a pure beauty that guided him to the corners of the town, spying, searching ...

The skin, bristling, desirous of a touch that could never be given ...

But his tangled mind showed a more recent memory ...

She was no longer a young woman, but she was still beautiful.

She danced with elegance and grace, as if the years had not passed.

Her voice was still powerful and vibrant, though a little shaken by the years and the lack of practice to sing.

Her perfume was still there. It was her essence, that she carried with her even after death.

There was no skin to touch, but bones ... bones that touched her, danced with her, took her by the waist, lifted her, embraced her ... and he enjoyed every moment of it...

Until the stomp came.

Reality hit him and from a distance he saw how she reconciled with him. After almost a century of hatred... She returned to him ... .

CONTINUE ...


End file.
